


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - I could have danced all night

by Samstown4077



Series: Colepaldi Collection [45]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Friendship, Moffat, Romance, Suppressed Feelings, gattis, samuel anderson - Freeform, with co writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series 8 came to an end and the crew celebrates with a little wrap party, dancing and dinner. Peter is not very keen on going, and Jenna remembers that there was always this dance they never had while filming Mummy on the Oriental express.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - I could have danced all night

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic in cooperation with fetchingsort from tumblr. We wrote together till the moment the party starts. I think while reading you will feel the the different feeling - the impression of a second writer. Well, I feel it, it reads different. Sadly she is busy and we never ended it and so I finally went for an end. It should have been longer, but I think how it ends at the moment is good for it.  
> Also, this is RPF, it's a fictional event and has probably never happened. My native is not English, thanks for reading it anyway.

It is tradition. They can’t stay away. Not him, not her. They are the stars of the show. No, they can’t stay away. The wrap party happens three days before they will kick off the World Tour in Cardiff.

Peter don’t like parties. “My trick for parties? Vanish!” he says to Jenna.

She chuckles, “Just an hour or two. Will not be that bad.”

As an answer he only rubs his eyes and sighs.

It’s a theme party. Roaring 20s. Jazz. There will be a little band, some dancing and a fancy three-course dinner. Talking. Speeches. Lord help them!

“Who ever decided that, seemed to fall in love with “ _Mummy on the Orient Express_ ”,” Jenna reads the invitation again.

Peter, not in possession of his own, snaps the piece of paper out of her hand, “Sounds like a fucking Glenn Miller musical they want us to do!” he shoots her a smile, knowing his inner Malcolm Tucker has taken over.

“I think it will be fun,” she muses, already thinking about what she will wear.

Indeed, it is not really necessary to do another event - they have 12 work intensive days in front - on the other hand, she likes the thought of dancing and some jazz band. She likes the thought of being there - with Peter.

Peter catches her almost longing looks into thin air. “You really like the thought of going there, lass, don’t you?”

A blush reddens her cheeks, when she looks down to the floor with a smirk. Maybe it was his thick Scottish accent that did that to her, or that he could read her like a book. Raising her chin again with new confidence, she takes away her invitation from his fingers, “Yes!”

“Alright,” it’s not like he had a choice. “Just promise me, to save me when it’s time.”

She shoots him a glance, unsure how to take his request. “Save you from what?”

He shrugs, seems to be working toward something, but just says, “Party stuff.”

She can’t help rolling her eyes, “wear something nice.”

“I always wear nice stuff,” he replies.

She gives him a quick once over that she doesn’t quite bother to hide and she can’t say she disagrees with him. 

“The theme?” she reminds him.

He sighs. “And you?”

“Me?” she frowns. He doesn’t even look at her properly, biting his thumb he furrows his brow at something that is in her back. So she turns around, expecting something, what turns out to be thin air.

When she turns back she finds him looking at her without blinking. He gives her this intense Capaldi stare with his greenish eyes that she forgets to ask him, what he was looking at behind her back.

“What will you wear?”

“Something nice,” she smiles, still not able to take her eyes from his.

He opens his mouth slightly as if he wants to tell her something, or ask her if she will wear the dress from “ _Mummy_ ”. Instead of saying something, his mouth falls shut again and he blinks, finally having Jenna in the dress in his mind’s eye.

“Sure it will look okay,” he can’t hide a teasing smile.

Giving him a scoffing glare, she turns around, “I am sure it will look perfect.”

Something in her tone thrills him. “Yes”, he agrees.

She glances at his hair, which seems to be getting puffier and wilder each day. “Are you going to do something about that?”

“About what?” he asks her.

“Your hair’s getting a bit lively,” she responds.

“Lively,” he repeats, and ruffles his own hair. “That’s --”

She likes when he runs his hands through his hair, but she also likes it short, and so it’s a win-win situation for her. She considers him for a moment.

He catches her glance and looks up, as if he could make eye contact with his own hair, “What? You think I should cut it?”

For a second she asks herself how it would feel to run her hand through his salt and pepper hair - this 50 shades of Capaldi grey, then blinks and smirks at him, “Depends on your outfit,” and with that she moves away. She has a dress to find.

#

A week later he finds himself in front of Jenna’s trailer. A bit too early, he bobs around on his heels, almost nervously. His hands travelling along his vest, checking again if he didn’t miss a button. He had went shopping two days ago, unsure what to wear. For some reason he couldn’t find anything suitable in his endless amount of clothing - he had a slight hunch why that was so. Shopping was not his favourite, he did it anyway and decided for dark blue trousers, a compatible vest and a shirt. Of course he went buttoned up, without a bow tie or cravat. The only extra he allowed where some suspenders in dark red.

The door goes open, and he is startled for a moment. Jenna smiles at him, and for a moment he is in total awe of her. She wears something similar to the dress from “ _Mummy_ ”, this time a bit longer, and in dark red. He recognizes instantly that it is the same colour as his braces. Quickly he brings himself out of his rigidity, and smiles, while his ears go red, “You look nice.”

“I am sure you wanted to say, it looks perfect,” she teases while her eyes roam over him. He didn’t get a haircut, instead he slicked them back - like he did in The Hour. His face is framed by prominent glasses. She can’t say it out loud, but he looks more than gorgeous. 

“No, I didn’t,” he smirks.

She presses her lips together in a tight line at his reply, but then notices something, “Your hair is sticking up a little in the back.”

He touches his head. “Where?”

She shrugs. “The back of your head.”

“Can you be more vague?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she answers, honestly. She watches him for another moment and then decides to take pity on him, which she does at least once a week. “Come here.”

He blinks, “I am here.”

“Men,” she mutters, and tugs him to her by the cuff of his arm. She’s on the top step of her trailer, so she’s actually a bit taller than him. She reaches around the back of his head and flattens down his unruly patch of hair. She looks down at him and smiles, “Better.”

He laughs. “Perfect?”

“Better,” she repeats.

“Cheeky,” he comments.

She affectionately pats his cheek and then lets her fingertips trail against his jaw as she pulls away, “You love it.”

He shrugs non-committally and takes a step backwards, “It’s not your worst quality.”

Her face suggests she doesn’t have a worst quality and that any sensible person would stop talking about it. Her tone also suggests this, “Worst quality?”

He hesitates between what he should say and what he shouldn’t. Pursing his lips for a moment, he decides to change the topic, “We are late.”

Jenna huffs slightly, she will maybe come back to their conversation, for now, she lets him off the hook. Not without teasing him, “When did you become so eager, going there?”

He decides to ignore it, and holds out his arm, she happily takes and steps down onto the pavement. After that, she slips her hand around his arm, squeezing it and he can’t help but smile about her.

When they arrive, most people are already there. Steven, Mark and also Samuel. Steven is wearing something like a suit, but they all know he has no sense for clothes, so they politely ignore his little faux pas. Mark is dressed like a real dandy, they haven’t expected anything else and Samuel wears some grey chequered trousers and a white shirt with bracer. On his head a newsboy hat, and that what he looks like. Like a newsboy, Peter thinks.

There are round tables and there is a stage with a band, all in matching clothes fitting the 1920s. They play slight jazz and swing, Peter can’t detect it yet. 

For whatever reason Peter sits at another table as Jenna, but at least they have eye contact, and when Steven has to say some welcoming words and raises a glass to speak a toast to a successful season, Peter looks over and sees her raising her glass toward him with a wink.

Luckily the dinner is over soon, and the fun-part begins, as Mark calls it. The band now plays a bit louder and people start to dash toward the dance floor. Peter begins walking through the room, he has sat too long in his stool and feels his back call for some movement. He goes for the bar, and is just about to wait for a new glass of soda when Jenna appears out of nowhere at his side.

“Enjoying yourself?” she smiles at him.

“Do I look like it?” he asks back, and pulls a face that indicates differently.

“Oh, come on,” she leans against the bar, her upper arm touching his elbow, as he leans with his back against the counter. “It’s not that bad. Also, you can’t leave yet.”

“Why not?” he takes a straw from aside from him and puts it in his glass and then tries to catch the green tube with his lips. He makes a show out of it, and Jenna smiles at his eight year old self.

“There is dance!” she turns around, mirroring his pose, her arm brushing against his.

He eyes her, knows exactly what she wants to suggest, “I can’t dance.”

“Liar,” she grabs for the straw in his glass and puts it in hers, drinking from it with mischief in her eyes.

He wants to say something about it, but instead he reaches for another, and in precaution takes the glass into the hand that is away from her, “How do you know?”

Jenna chuckles, “YouTube.”

Peter makes another face, “Well, then you know, I can’t dance, lass,” he smirks at her, and then sees Samuel walking over.

“Hey Samuel,” he has seen him dance with Steven’s wife a few minutes ago, “Jenna, just said she wants to dance with you.”

Pouting she gives him a glare, and he only bits his lips to suppress a grin.

“That can be arranged, I think,” Samuel gives them both a suspicious look, he seems to sense, that Jenna hasn’t stated this wish, but he plays along. At least for the moment.

“Wimp!” Jenna whispers loud enough before she grabs for Samuels held out hand.

Playful Peter presses his hands against his heart, acting over dramatic hurt. Then he chuckles hardly, “You saw me on YouTube, it would be all embarrassing. I am sure you are better with Samuel here.”

Samuel smiles first at him, with a glint of a prank in his eyes, then at Jenna and says, “I’ve seen those videos too, and you’re way better with me.”

Jenna can see it too, and knows Samuel is teasing Peter, and it doesn’t fail in the reaction, when Peter makes a staggered face, “Watch it newspaper boy!”

They all snicker over it, but before he leads Jenna away to the dance floor, Samuel points at him and shrugs nonchalantly; “No, you will watch!”

Pulling another face, and mimicking a ‘ _yes, yes, yes’_ Peter snaps with his mouth for the straw again, and watches the pair join the others at the dance floor.

Peter can dance, maybe not as gracious as some others, but he can do the basics. In his movies he never had to do the basics, he always had to do some comedy show or some improvise rocking in front of a radio, but never the standards.

So he can very well imagine what Jenna has seen on YouTube. He puffs some air, slightly peeved, and watches her enjoying the up-tempo song with Samuel. They dance around to the song as young people do it these days, as he once has stated. He probably could do that too, but he feels not in the mood for it. Jumping around like a twenty year old for one night, and his back will tell him tomorrow what an idiotic idea that was, so he turns around again. For a reason he can’t explain, he has seen enough for the moment of Jenna rocking it with Samuel.

“No dancing tonight, Doctor?” the barkeeper approaches him and refills his glass kindly. It’s Richard from the costume department, who has volunteered as barkeeper tonight.

Peter laughs, and sees Richard watch over his shoulders to the dance floor, he urges the feeling away to look again, “Apparently not.”

Richard and Peter lock eyes, and he can see that the man wants to say something, but better keeps it to himself and as Peter can read people, he speaks his thoughts for him, “I know, my companion has wandered off once more.”

It’s not exactly what Richard wanted to say, but it comes close, “Apparently.”

He leaves him, to go to make some drinks for the others, and Peter turns around again, and as the song has changed he can see Jenna and Samuel try out some standards. He smirks over their try not to look at their feet so they would not fall over each other. They snicker and after a bit, it seems they found a way. A bit bumpy, Peter thinks, and then his glass is empty once more and he makes a decision.

Walking over to the bandleader he motions the girl over and whispers her a request into her ear, she nods and then smiles at him brightly, “Of course. We do it right away.”

He smiles back, and searches his way through the people, and tips Samuel onto the shoulder, “I think the next dance is mine.”

“So the Doctor dances after all?” Samuel steps aside, winking at Jenna and waits for Peter to say something before he will leave.

Peter smirks, first at Jenna, then at the young man, “The world doesn't end because the Doctor dances.”

“That’s an argument, I can’t win,” Samuel nods and wanders over to get grabbed by Sue. So Peter hasn’t to have bad feelings about his interrupting.

“So we doing the giraffe dance now?” Jenna teases and is about to bring her hands over her head, before he stops her with a pursing of his lips.

“Not, exactly,” he takes her hands into his, and Jenna feels the warmth of them before he places one on his neck, and the other he holds in his. The next thing he does is placing his free hand on her back by her shoulder blade, close to her spine, feeling her bare skin under his hands. Then the song begins, and the first beats of “ _Don’t stop me now”_ in the jazz version of Foxes come up.

She first looks at him in surprise, realizing then he has arranged the band to play the song and then she remembers when they were filming the episode, that she was a bit miffed that there was no dancing scene for them in it. As she would have loved to dance at the time with him.

For a moment she wants to look down at her feet but he makes her stop with a “ _ta!”_ and begins to lead her over the dance floor. It’s not really a foxtrot or anything she knows, it’s more an improvisation with the beat and aside she is scared she will step on his feet, she quickly realizes that she can trust him and her own feet, and when the first minute is over she has relaxed into his leading, into the moves.

Feeling her relaxation, he dares to step away from her, spinning her carefully away from her and she giggles over it, before she finds her way back into his arms. He chuckles and does it again, only to spin himself around under her arm what makes her laugh even more, as he has to go almost down to his knees to fit under her arm.

They don’t see, that people watch them in the corner of their eyes. Peter is busy watching Jenna, making his moves, taking care he will not step on her delicate feet. He knows he can be clumsy, but everything works out and he notices that the band has made the song a bit longer as it usually is.

With one last pirouette of Jenna the song ends, and she finds him smiling at her, slightly bowing.

“So, not all awkward in the end,” she comments and nods toward him.

“I hope not,” he blushes, not that he would care what the others think about it. Then another song comes up, more up-tempo and the people start to bounce again. He winces slightly, “I think that’s my call to go home.”

She would lie, when she wouldn’t have loved to do another dance with him, “Already?”

He hears her disappointment. It’s not like he wouldn’t like to have another dance. It’s not even the music, the bouncing - he could manage.

When they had filmed “ _Mummy_ ”, he had seen her sway around the room between takes, when the music was on. He had done as if he hadn’t taken the hints, while his fingers had drummed on the table, imagine how a dance scene could have looked like.

It’s as usual something different, the unseen elephant in the room. Knowing when he would do another dance, he wouldn’t stop, he would go on and on, and god knows what that would make out of him. A besotted fool - in case he wasn’t one already.

“I’m an old man, Jenna,” he shrugs smirking, he is good with making fun of himself and smiles at her as if he had three whiskey instead of three soda. “I need my beauty sleep. You are young, you can take another hour of bouncing and cheering.”

Jenna knows she can’t stop him, and so she lets go of him, knowing his reasons all too well. He is right, not the fairest but it’s the correct thing to do. So she lets him give her a hug that lasts a half second too long and then he sways with the music away from the dance floor, while people dance around him wildly and then suddenly he turns around and pulls his arms over his head and makes a short impression of the giraffe dance and Jenna holds her hands over her stomach, laughing.

Suddenly it feels like another song she likes, from a movie, she hasn’t seen for a while. About a grumpy old professor and his younger apprentice. A story that could easily adapted in the current Doctor Who series.

She sees him slip out of the door, and right before someone else asks her to dance again, she excuses herself.

She would have loved to dance, all night, all awkward, all giraffe like, it wouldn’t have mattered. She could have danced all night - with him.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you enjoyed this story, leave a message, a comment or a kudo. I publish on regular basis and thanks for the read!  
> (tumblr colepalid-in-the-tardis)
> 
> The song I point out at the end is from the Movie My Fair Lady and is also the title of this fic. Marvelous film!


End file.
